


A Small Revolution

by sableu



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 03:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3921769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sableu/pseuds/sableu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bartolomeo protests on the street every Saturday with his gang.  They're starting to lose motivation when suddenly he hears that the infamous civil disobedient, and his idol- Luffy-senpai!- is going to show up at their next protest.  Luffy doesn't end up coming, however...instead, his big brother does.<br/>Pretty fluffy, Sabo/Bartolomeo if you squint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Small Revolution

The protest wasn’t going so well.  

It shouldn’t have come as any surprise, of course, that it was difficult to keep a group of tired queer anarchist punks motivated when it was nearly freezing outside and the sky was threatening rain.  Especially when you factored in all the not-so-nice comments being doled out by passing pedestrians.

Bartolomeo wasn’t discouraged, however, and continued to hold up his sign with near-giddy confidence. He knew something the others didn’t. More specifically, he knew that the legendary Monkey D. Luffy was going to show up to this protest.

Luffy had been Bartolomeo’s idol for three years now.  He was just a kid, but he was the king of civil disobedience in the city.  He seemed to have no regard for the law or the government and just did whatever he wanted, and he  _always_ got away with it.  It was Bartolomeo’s personal theory that he had been blessed by God to become the messiah who would save their poor souls from the horrors of organized governments.

And little did the others know, but a friend of his had run into the man himself just the other day. He’d asked Luffy to come to their protest, and allegedly Luffy had replied “Okay, why not?” and  _smiled._ Now that would raise morale tenfold.  Just looking at Monkey D. Luffy made you want to rebel.

The only problem being, of course, that it was nearing five o’clock…and he still hadn’t shown up. Bartolomeo was starting to get antsy.

At about half past five, a man did appear, but it wasn’t Luffy.

No, instead it was a tall, skinny bloke in a long black coat.  He looked young, probably college age or just above.  His hair was wavy and blonde and seemed naturally messy, like he’d just walked through a strong wind.  His most striking feature, however, was the large burn scar on his face surrounding his left eye, which was clouded with blindness.

He also had very nice cheekbones.  But that was irrelevant.

The man stopped in front of the group and surveyed their droopy signs and even droopier expressions with a slight frown.

“You guys don’t look so good,” he said.  “You sure it wouldn’t be better to just go home?”

Bartolomeo was irritated. He’d been heckled enough for today, and he just about couldn’t stand it.  But he knew he had to control his temper- that was something he wasn’t very good at, and it had gotten him locked up on more than one occasion.

_Just think about Luffy-senpai,_ he told himself.   _If you just hold on a little longer, you’ll-_ That’s right!  Luffy was going to show up today!

“Just you wait,” he spat, marching up to the blonde man, “the great Luffy-senpai’s going to come here soon, and then no one will be able to ignore us!”

The man was momentarily quiet, but then he smirked.  “Your  _Luffy-senpai…_ he will not come here.”

“Oh yeah, you bastard? How do you know that?  Don’t you dare talk shit to me about Luffy-senpai, he’s three times the man any of us are, and-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know all of that already.  He’s my little brother.”

Bartolomeo stared.

“Name’s Sabo, nice to meet you,” the man said, sticking out a gloved hand to shake.  “Luffy felt bad that he promised that guy from your lot that he’d come, and the guy apparently even gave him his sandwich, but something came up. Luffy can’t make it, so I told him I’d come in his stead.”

Bartolomeo eyed his outstretched hand but didn’t take it.  “…What?”

The man shrugged and pushed him out of the way.  It was only a light shove, but he was obviously very strong, as even that light shove knocked the nearly seven foot Bartolomeo back a few steps.  The man- Sabo- knelt and picked up one of the signs that had been abandoned by its holder.  It read “LIBERTY, EQUALITY, ANARCHY”.  He shrugged and held it up.

Bartolomeo frowned and held his own sign higher, standing next to Sabo.  “Are you really Luffy-senpai’s brother?”

“Uh-huh.”

“…You don’t look much alike.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

As it turned out, while he wasn’t the infamous Monkey D. Luffy, Sabo was a pretty damn good protester. It wasn’t just that he didn’t seem to get tired at all or was able to chant for an hour straight without losing his voice, he had…an air about him.  Just by him being there, the other protesters seemed more energized and willing to go on.

Not to mention, he was extremely smart.  The more crass of hecklers he was able to ignore with ease, standing silently as he was bumped into or spit on.  The ones that got into a proper debate with him, however, he spoke to simply and intelligently.  He won every single argument.  He even convinced a couple people that maybe they should protest as well.

By the end of the day, he was as much of a leader of the group as Bartolomeo was, or maybe even a better one.

“How…how do you do it?” Bartolomeo asked in astonishment as they were finally packing up to go home.

Sabo seemed amused.  “Donno.  I’ve been protesting on the streets for a while, I guess.”

“You’re incredible. Seriously, if you can, you should come here again.  It’d really help us out.”

“Hm.  Maybe I will.”

Bartolomeo thanked him again, and then he disappeared into the night like some sort of dark superhero. If any word could have described how Bartolomeo felt then, “reverent” might have been the best one.  

Or just a touch “smitten”.

—

Over the next few weeks, despite what he had said, Sabo didn’t return.

Bartolomeo couldn’t help but miss him.  He tried his hardest to copy how the man had acted, but it was difficult.  His temper was too strong and he just wasn’t as good with words.  The others didn’t respect him as much, either.  He kept having to give up and go home early.  It was so  _frustrating._ Some days he wanted to give up on the protests entirely.

Today was one of those days.

A group of aggressive rival protesters had shown up and wouldn’t stop hassling them.  It was even more irritating because Bartolomeo knew they weren’t actually super pro-government.  They didn’t care at all about any cause, they were just bored and wanted to make fun of him and his mates.  

Maybe they were hoping they’d annoy his group so much that they’d do something rash and end up thrown in jail- the bastards would probably think that was a good laugh, wouldn’t they?

At one point, the rival protesters even started throwing eggs.  The local police did nothing to stop them.  In the police’s eyes, Bartolomeo and his gang were just punks who wanted to cause trouble; they probably thought they were getting what was coming to them.

Egg after egg broke around them and against them.  Bartolomeo’s hair, which he had so carefully styled that morning, was now matted with yolk. It was horrible.  He had to keep dodging the eggs so they wouldn’t hit his face. He was tired and frustrated, and above all boiling with anger.

“I’m out, man,” one of his friends said.  “I’m sorry, but I can’t take this anymore.”

“Me either.”

“And me.  This is crazy, Barto.  I can’t do it.”

He watched his friends put down their signs, a little shocked.  “All right, guys.  Don’t worry about it!  We’ll just try again next weekend.  …You’re coming back next weekend, right?”

They didn’t reply, just shook their heads in disgust and walked off.  The rival group hooted and hollered, obviously considering this a victory. Bartolomeo was just about to rip their skin off when a figure dressed in a long black coat appeared on the side walk.

He had to do a double take. He couldn’t believe his eyes- was that  _Sabo?_ The person he’d grown to admire, who he’d been dying to see again for weeks, who he’d started to subconsciously think of as his “ _Great_ -senpai”?  It couldn’t be.

He didn’t have time to be sure because just then, while he was distracted, he was hit smack between the eyes with an egg.  He stumbled. The sidewalk was slick with dozens of smashed yolks and he ended up slipping, falling backwards with a painful crash.

It hurt like hell, and then- a strong gloved hand was pulling him up.  He blinked.  “Sen…pai?”

Sabo smiled as he hauled him to his feet.  “That’s a good look for you.”

Bartolomeo touched his hair, wilted down by egg yolk.  “Um…” He didn’t know what to say.  It was almost as if Sabo was an angel, sent down from heaven to help him just when he needed it most.

“What’s your name again? Muscle-lemon or something?”  Sabo pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and helped wipe the egg off Bartolomeo’s face.  “I’m impressed, you know.  Not many people could take that amount of abuse and stay standing still.”

Bartolomeo gulped.  “It’s not like that.  Any longer, and I’d’ve attacked them for sure.  Besides…I was only able to hold off as long as I did because of you. When you were here you kept such a calm head.  You were so cool, great-senpai, I just wanted to be like you!”

That made Sabo laugh. “I may have seemed cool on the outside, but trust me, on the inside I was fantasizing about crushing those assholes’ skulls.  I just knew that wouldn’t amount to anything, so I refrained.”

“I really wish everyone hadn’t left,” Bartolomeo looked around at the abandoned signs dejectedly. “With you here, I’m sure they could’ve taken it.”  He dodged another egg.  “I can’t blame them, but I still feel a little betrayed…”

Sabo was quiet for a moment, then said, “Wait right here, I’ll just be a moment.”  

He dashed off, leaving Bartolomeo completely perplexed.

After ten minutes he still hadn’t returned.  Bartolomeo felt like sinking into the ground and disappearing.  Of course Sabo had bolted.  He shouldn’t have been so surprised.

He just let the eggs hit him now, ignoring the laughter and chants of the group on the other side of the street.

“You’re all alone now, you ugly punk!”

“No wonder all your friends abandoned you.  Who’d wanna hang out with such a weird bastard?

“I hope now you get that you should give up on your stupid cause and stop clogging up our streets!”

Maybe they were right. He wasn’t smart and charismatic like Sabo.  All he was good at was using force, and force didn’t get you anywhere when you wanted to convince people to agree with you.  He might as well give up.  His friends, and Sabo- they weren’t coming back.  What good would he do, protesting all by himself?

He must have said that last bit out loud, because suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder.  “You’re not by yourself at all.”

He turned.  It was Sabo- but not just Sabo.  Behind him stood loads of others, smiling at Bartolomeo.

In one glance Bartolomeo recognized the great Luffy-senpai, Luffy’s infamous brother Ace, and the king of the anarchist cause himself- the veteran street artist who went by “Dragon”. There were others, too: a short ginger woman in a pink dress, a huge guy in a karate uniform, and a couple tall women with bright, flashy hair and outfits.

“All of us have seen you out here every Saturday,” Sabo said.  “We have a lot of respect for you.  We never really had the time or forethought to join in, but we’ve always wanted to.  So why the hell not?”

The others nodded and started picking up the soggy signs that Bartolomeo’s friends had dropped, wiping them off and holding them up.

The rival group was surprised by the new arrivals, but still chanted and threw eggs, as aggressive as ever. Dragon caught one of the eggs in his hand and crushed it with a frown.

“This is pissing me off,” the short ginger woman said.  “Let’s chant back.”

So they did.  They chanted back so loudly that their voices drowned out the other group’s jeers and shouts.  

People in the streets actually stopped and watched, interested.  At one point, a couple guys from the local news showed up and started taking pictures.  One of them asked for a statement on the protest and they all shoved Sabo forward, letting him take the reins.  Per usual, he came up with something really clever on the spot.  Dragon added in some words too.

“We’ll get front page for sure,” Sabo said to Bartolomeo afterwards, throwing his arm around him. “You and me- sorry, I forgot your name again, what is it?”

“B-Bartolomeo,” Bartolomeo replied, barely able to get it out through his tears.  He was just so happy.

“Yeah!  You and me, Bartolomeo.  We’ll make history someday.”

Bartolomeo tried to say thank you, but he couldn’t find the words.  Sabo got the message, though, and hugged him, holding his sign up high.


End file.
